


These Days Are Precious

by simplesnowflake



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Frohana, Gen, Modern AU, Oneshot collection, snow sisters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24379165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplesnowflake/pseuds/simplesnowflake
Summary: "Would you like to come live with me?" It was the first message she ever received from her sister, and they haven't looked back since. A collection of non-chronological frohana oneshots set in a modern AU.
Relationships: Anna & Elsa (Disney), Anna/Kristoff (Disney)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 84





	1. Did You Just Hiss At Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my side project! Here are the only two things you need to know before reading:
> 
> \- It's a modern AU of random shenanigans our favourite sisters get up to while living together (no ice powers here!)
> 
> \- These are all moments in time that don't happen in chronological order because most are based on prompts/requests and written as inspiration comes. Just whimsical oneshots on the side while I work on The Next Unknown, so please don't expect much of a plot or any consistency at all. I only hope these little pieces brighten up someone's day :)
> 
> Also posted on my ff.net account: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5420605/simplesnowflake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Anna runs into her ex-fiancé.

_\- Still alive, Feisty Pants?_

_\- Two words: CHOCOLATE. FOUNTAIN._

_\- More than alive then :)_

Anna grins around the chocolate strawberry she's just popped into her mouth. She likes that Kristoff uses commas and capital letters and emojis. She likes that he's probably texting her while walking home from work. She especially likes that he doesn't seem to understand how she could possibly be having a good time, but is nonetheless happy that she is.

She likes this charity ball a lot more than she thought she would, too. There's a part of her that misses these chances to get in a nice dress and have a night of fun for a good cause. There's a part of her that misses being seen like this. And every part of her misses her parents.

But there's also a part of her that keeps scanning the room and relaxing each time she catches sight of Elsa. Her sister keeps shooting her _are you okay_ looks even though she's the one getting swarmed by people and reporters while Anna takes up permanent residence by the dessert table.

She'll just get a few more nibbles. Then she'll go over and rescue her sister. She'll rescue her sister _with_ nibbles. Great plan.

Someone sidles up to her just as she stuffs two marshmallows into her mouth. "Would you like a napkin, miss?"

Anna feels like a hamster as her head jerks up. "Oh no, is there something on my fa—" The rest of the word is mangled by an undignified sound of dismay.

Hans Westergaard blinks, and then arches a stupidly perfect eyebrow. "Did you just hiss at me?"

It's a struggle not to choke. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Why, I'm offering the ungrateful lady a napkin. And yes, there is something on your face. Would you like me to—"

"No, thank you." She snatches the napkin.

Hans watches with a slight smirk. He looks like a fairy-tale prince with his slicked-back hair and that nicely-tailored suit… wait a minute.

"Oh dear lord," Anna mutters.

It's the _same damn suit_ he was wearing the night they met. The night Anna made the mistake of believing that she'd found an actual fairy-tale prince who actually loved her only to find out months later that he was actually in love with her inheritance.

"I'm surprised to see you here, Anna," Hans is saying blithely. A passing couple catches his eye and he smiles back, raising his glass to them. "Last I heard, you were focusing on your studies. Oh, but of course—you must be accompanying your sister. She's the one who actually knows what she's doing. I never got to properly introduce myself while we were an item. I might go over and rescue her from the mayor… why are you smiling like that?"

"Nothing," Anna chirps. "Hi, sis."

The colour leeches from Hans's face as he whirls around.

Elsa is the picture of sophisticated grace in her lavender gown, hands clasped patiently in front of her. "I'm sorry; I didn't want to interrupt. May I borrow my sister?"

Anna shoots Hans a smug smile as she skips around him.

"You have chocolate on your face," Elsa chides, setting down her untouched champagne flute. She takes the crumpled napkin and dabs at Anna's cheek.

Hans is left gawking. He eventually recovers with a plastic smile. "Hello, Elsa."

"Hans," Elsa replies politely. "It's good to finally meet you. I'm sorry I missed the wedding."

"Wait, what?" Anna wonders if Elsa actually has been drinking too much—she does know that Anna mailed Hans's ring back in a jack-in-the-box booby-trapped with chilli powder, right? She was the one who suggested the chilli powder in the first place!

Then Elsa adds, "Please give Ursula my regards."

Hans's expression puckers as if Elsa has emptied her glass over his head. His ears go red as his wine, and he mutters something before spinning on his heels and disappearing back into the crowd.

Anna immediately whirls on Elsa. " _Um?_ "

"Yes?"

"Wedding? Ursula? _What?_ "

Turning to the dessert table, Elsa picks up a skewer and starts sliding on marshmallows at an agonisingly tranquil pace. "It's not public knowledge, but it seems your ex-fiancé tried to become 'close friends' with another heiress. Except she was not an heiress."

"I'm so confused. He didn't know who she was?"

"I believe he wasn't entirely… cognizant."

"Elsaaaa."

Her sister's eyes twinkle as she dips the skewer into the chocolate fountain. "They were in Vegas, Anna."

"Oh. _Oh._ Oh my god. Are you saying—did they—"

"I'm sure he will find a way out of it. He is a lawyer, after all."

"Still!" Anna howls, wiping tears from her eyes. "How did you know?"

"Why do you think I know?"

"Aww." Anna drops her head on Elsa's shoulder. "Love you, sis."

"I love you, too." Elsa deftly moves her skewer away just as Anna tries to take a bite. "But not enough to share."

"Oh, come on! Just one bite, you stinker!"

Kristoff was right: she's more than alive.


	2. Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Honeymaren meets a regular customer

Honeymaren never works on Saturdays, so when Ryder crashes into her room at the crack of dawn begging _just this once, Maren, please please please, I forgot to tell Yelana I have this thing today,_ she launches a pillow at his head and growls, "Laundry duty. Three months."

" _Three_ —fine! Deal!" He clambers over her to shove open the curtains above her bed.

Honeymaren rubs her eyes and squints. "Please tell me you're not going to your first date dressed like Deadpool."

"Who said anything about a date? It's Comic-Con, baby! I _am_ Deadpool."

Dragging herself out of bed, Honeymaren mutters, "If you dye my shirts orange one more time, you'll just be Dead."

Ryder doesn't hear her; he's going a hundred miles an hour gathering her work clothes and tossing them in her direction. "Okay, the only thing you have to remember is not to sell that sunburst I left on the second shelf in the backroom. It's a customer order."

"For a succulent? Did you tell them we always have a whole aisle of them?"

"Yeah, but this one is different. She comes in to buy the same plant every Saturday morning and they _have_ to look identical. I'm serious: the first time, she came in with a freaking video of the plant from every angle and said she'd pay double if I could get her another one that looked just like it. So I keep an eye out every week and put aside the one that looks the closest."

"What—does she go around breaking the same person's plant every weekend?"

"Better. Get this: apparently, she gave her little sister a sunburst for her graduation or something and her sister, like, worships it. Except she keeps overwatering it and our sweet regular replaces it every week so her sister doesn't realise she's killed it at least twenty times over."

"How in Eden's green name do you kill a _succulent_ every _week?_ And why doesn't she just tell her sister the truth instead of throwing money down the drain?"

"Who knows? Maybe she enjoys spoiling her sister. Maybe they're both dorks. Maybe she's a millionaire and likes supporting small businesses—she's definitely nice enough to fit that bill. You know those fundraiser chocolates we have at the counter that no one ever touches? Just watch: she'll pick up two without you having to say a thing. Anyway, just don't sell that sunburst to anyone but her!"

"Alright, alright, I get it. What does she look like?"

"Oh, trust me—you'll _know_ when she walks through the door."

Seven hours later, Honeymaren ambushes her whistling brother as soon as he ambles into the flower shop.

"Whoa, chill! I'll go upstairs and start the washing machine now. Wait, how are you still counting the till? It's way past—"

"That dorkily nice might-be-a-millionaire sunburst customer," she cuts in.

"Uh, you mean Elsa?"

"That's her name? Elsa? And she comes in every Saturday?"

"Yeah…?"

"Forget the laundry. Swap shifts with me."


	3. Searching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Backstory chapter] In which Anna waits for Elsa after being invited to live together.

Anna waits. Sits on her suitcase, lower back protesting; but nope, she's not going to sink into those comfortable waiting chairs. Her sister will be here any minute now. Traffic—no, a flat tyre. That's it.

It strikes her that she doesn't even know if Elsa drives; just like how she doesn't know Elsa's favourite season or dessert or TV show.

The airport is crowded, and Anna can't stop searching.

Twenty minutes. Thirty. Fifty.

She pulls up her messages and sees rows of bubbles—all hers. But she's used to that; it's been like that for years. She's written _good morning!_ and _happy national chocolate day!_ and _miss you heaps!_ She's asked _whatcha up to today?_ and _are you coming home this summer?_ She's sent duck photos and pug photos and family photos.

She's only ever called once, though. And she still doesn't know what it would be like to talk to her sister, because all they exchanged were muffled sobs.

The funeral was crowded, and Anna couldn't stop searching. Nor could she stop making excuses for Elsa, because if there were no delayed flights or flat tyres or old ladies to help across the road, then that left Anna holding the question of _how could you?_

So she stopped messaging, in case those three words slipped out of her mind and onto the screen.

But last month, it was _her_ phone that vibrated. At first, Anna thought it was a glitch; she stared, scrolled up and down, restarted her phone, and stared some more. The single message on the other side of the chat remained unchanged: _Would you like to come and live with me?_

So now Anna is on the other side of the country, rocking back and forth on her suitcase at the arrivals gate, head turning this way and that, searching.

She wonders if Elsa left the house without her phone and missed Anna's _I'm here!_ messages.

She wonders if Elsa is busy and forgot the date.

She wonders if Elsa has changed her mind.

Sixty minutes. One hour.

"… Anna?"

The suitcase rolls out from underneath her.

"A-Anna?! Are you okay? Wait, your suitcase—" She's still lying spreadeagled on the squeaky tiles when the not-stranger hurries back with her runaway luggage. "Are you okay? Did you hit your head?"

Anxious hands help her sit up, but Anna never makes it to her feet. She throws her arms around Elsa.

"I thought you weren't coming!" she blubbers.

There's a sharp inhale above her left ear. She thinks she's jinxed it. Maybe Elsa did change her mind, but she's so polite she came just to tell Anna that, no, they can't live together and Anna needs to return to that big, empty house that no longer feels like home.

Then she feels a featherlight embrace. "I'm sorry. My phone ran out of battery. I walked everywhere looking for you." A swallow followed by a whisper: "I kept thinking I'd passed you without knowing. Without recognising."

Anna squeezes tight and thinks, _Me too._

Another long moment passes. Then another, because Anna expects Elsa to let go first, but they're both still holding on tight.

Finally, Elsa asks, "Ready?"

Anna realises how silly it was to worry about not recognising her sister's face when it's really _Elsa_ she doesn't know—not yet. But for the first time in forever, at least she's got a chance.

She wipes her face and pulls back with a teary grin. "Are you kidding? I was born ready."


	4. If I Die, I'm Haunting You First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elsa is a clingy drunk.

"Does the air… seem a bit… thin… to you… up here?"

"You make it sound like you're climbing a mountain."

"You mean… I'm not? Please tell me I'm almost there."

It feels cruel to laugh, so Kristoff clears his throat. "You're almost there."

Anna looks up. And groans.

"That's why I told you to wait with her while I ran up and came back with the car."

"Yeah, but _before_ that, you said, _'It's too steep. I don't have my Ventolin with me and you can't piggyback your drunk sister all the way there._ '"

"That was not a cue for you to go ' _Says who?'_ and literally die on this hill proving me wrong."

"Oh, so you admit you were wrong!"

"Who lost her balance and would have rolled down the hill without me to save her?"

"That was like a crazy trust exercise. If I die, I'm haunting you first."

" _I'm not drunk…_ " Elsa mumbles into Anna's shoulder.

"You wanna walk on your own then?" Anna teases.

"Nooooo!"

Kristoff definitely feels an asthma attack on the way because Elsa is whining and clinging to her sister like a resplendent koala, and Jesus H. Christ, he can't breathe.

"Elsa," Anna chokes out. "Can't… breathe…!"

"Sorry." It's a loud whisper.

"There's still a way to go," Kristoff tells Anna. "I could take her."

"No!" Elsa burrows back into the crook of Anna's neck.

"Oof! Okay, okay. I got you." Anna hoists Elsa higher on her back. "I swear this is karma."

"At least she's an adorable drunk."

"Hah! You've seen nothing. Watch this—hey, Els?"

"Mhmm?"

"What's number forty-two on the periodic table?"

"Molybdenum. Forty-two is my favourite number. It's the answer to life—"

"—the universe and everything," Anna choruses with her. "I still can't believe you read that book to me as a _bedtime story._ How old were you?"

"I'm two."

"Oh boy. Does that make me minus one?" Anna's powering up the hill now, her head tipped against Elsa's as she chatters on, all hints of fatigue vaporised.

Kristoff follows with a smile.

"Anna?" Elsa says blissfully.

"Yeah?"

"Love you."

"Love you, too. Hey, hey, don't fall asleep on me. What about that super long word you told me about the other day?"

"Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis?"

"Err… no. The other one; it started with F?"

"Ohhh. Floccinaucinihilipilification? It means 'the act of deciding that something is worthless'. Do you want me to spell it?"

"No, no, we're good—"

"F-L-O-C…"

They're only halfway up this godforsaken hill, but when Anna rolls her eyes and smiles at him, Kristoff knows it's a waste of breath to deny it: this girl is already haunting him.


	5. Twenty Kilos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Backstory chapter] In which Anna calls Elsa about a guy she met at the gym.

"Oh my god, sis. You are not going to believe what just happened to me."

"Are you okay? Where are you? Are you okay?"

"You asked that twice. I didn't mean something _literally_ happened to me… well, kinda. So I checked out that gym two blocks down—you know, the one next to the flower shop? The nice lady gave me a free trial so I—"

"You haven't answered my question. Are you okay?"

"I'm peachy! What about you? Whatcha doing?"

"Cleaning up the tea I spilled because you scared me."

"Oops, sorry. So anyway, I ran back to the apartment and threw on some exercise gear then sprinted back to the gym. Perfect distance for a warmup. There I am, doing deadlifts to their adorable retro playlist—"

"I'm sorry, you were doing _what?"_

"Rocking to _Never Gonna Give You Up?"_

"No, before that. You were… lifting the dead? Anna? Please say something. I can't tell if you're laughing or choking."

"I… I can't…"

"Breathe?"

"Deadlifts are an exercise! For your legs!"

"Then why are they not called leg lifts?"

"Because that's a whole different exercise. For your abs. Which is so weird now that I think about it—but never mind that. I'm resting between sets, right? And suddenly this massive _shadow_ falls over me. It's the big guy from the next rack over. I've been watching him—well, not _watching_ him; there's a huge mirror, totally unavoidable—and he lifts, like, twice my body weight. Very impressive. Then he looks at me and grunts, 'Twenty kilos'. I thought he was body-shaming me so I absolutely laid into him—"

"You picked a fight with a stranger twice your weight? Anna, that is like running into fire!"

"I said he _lifted_ twice my weight… although he probably is also twice my weight. Big muscles. But that's not the point! He just, like, stood there while I blasted him about toxic masculinity and down with the patriarchy blah blah blah. And at the end of it all, you know what he said?"

"'I'm sorry'?"

"'Behind you'."

"Should I know what that means?"

"Elsa, he came over to ask for a _twenty-kilo weight plate_. That was behind me. And I called him a sexist musclehead."

"Oh, Anna."

"Right?! I felt so bad I dragged him downstairs and bought him donuts, and it turns out he's really sweet so we've decided to elope to New Zealand."

"Wait, what? Please tell me you're joking. Anna? _Please. Tell me. You're joking._ "

"Hey now, it's the twenty-first century. It's not like I need my sister's blessing to fall in love with a nice guy."

"No, but with your track record…"

"Hey, it was one time!"

"You were months away from marrying an unredeemable monster."

"Yeah, but Kristoff is different! He has a super cute Samoyed called Sven. We're heading over now."

"You're going to his _house_?"

"Of course not, silly. We're going to the airport! New Zealand, remember?"

"The _airport_ —you can't just—I don't… Anna! Stop laughing; this isn't funny!"

"Aww, Els, just open up. You'll see."

"No, this is not about me keeping an open mind; it's about you giving your heart away to a sweaty man you just met today. I understand he may be a perfectly decent person, but I don't care how fluffy his dog is—you can't get on that plane. Please, Anna. I'll come get you. Where are you now?"

"I'm outside."

"Good. With other people around?"

"With your secretary, actually. Waiting for you to _open the door_ so we can psychoanalyse Kristoff's social media and figure out whether or not I should make friends with him. Also, you're a gullible dork and I bought you donuts."

"… I hate you."


	6. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Backstory chapter, direct continuation of oneshot #3, Searching] In which Anna officially moves in with Elsa.

Anna sifts through the stranger and collects details like flecks of gold buried in the sands of time.

When she follows her sister through the airport and realises she still has to look up even though Elsa is only wearing flats: _Wow, she's taller than me._

When Elsa tries to help her with the luggage and nearly drops it on her own foot: … _But not exactly stronger. Got it._

When they get into a small white car: _Oh, she_ does _drive._

When Elsa struggles so badly to merge lanes she misses their exit on the freeway: _Oh my God. She_ can't _drive._

Anna tries so hard not to grip the door handle for security that she can't remember what she spends the ride rambling about. Her sister is mostly silent, all hums, terse nods and white-knuckled hands on the steering wheel. Anna tells herself it's because all of Elsa's focus is going into keeping them on the road, and not because Elsa, like, hates her or anything. That's absurd.

Right?

When they reach the city, Elsa's driving suddenly improves; Anna suspects it's because there's so much traffic they're barely moving. Sitting at a red light (Elsa slammed on the brakes when it turned yellow), Anna is so captivated by the bustle beyond her window that she nearly misses her sister tentatively asking, "Do you have your license yet?"

Anna snaps her head around too keenly, and winces when she sees Elsa flinch. _Is she scared of me?_ "Sorry? Oh—my license? Ah, no, I kinda, um, failed the test. Twice. But I know how to drive!"

Elsa blinks, and Anna panics— _crap, she thinks I'm a total dunce for failing twice—_ but then the lights go green. Almost immediately, the car behind them honks impatiently and startles them both.

Seeing her sister's shoulders tense up again ignites something inside Anna. She twists in her seat, stares straight through the rear window, and glares at the other driver. She can't tell if they can see her, but she likes to think it was the heat of her wrath that sent them scurrying into the nearest side street.

"What a stinker," Anna huffs as she turns back around. Then she remembers that it's not Kai in the seat beside her, and flushes as she glances towards Elsa. "Am I embarrassing? I'm embarrassing, aren't I? Hans always says so—i-in a nice way, of course. Like, you know, 'you adorable dork' or—"

"You're not embarrassing," Elsa says quietly. There's a pause as she carefully navigates an intersection. Then, "Hans is a friend?"

_Oh,_ Anna realises. _I'm not the only one playing detective._

"He's, um, a little more than that."

Elsa's surprise manifests as an especially jerky stop at a pedestrian crossing. "You're _dating_ someone?"

The urge to defend him rises from nowhere. "You'll like Hans! He's a perfect gentleman with the sweetest sense of justice. He just graduated from law school. And he likes chocolate and sandwiches, just like me."

_He didn't like you moving across the country_ , a niggling voice reminds her. Anna purses her lips and pushes the thought to the back of her mind.

"I'm sorry. That question came out strange." Elsa glances at Anna, adding softly, "Sometimes I forget that you're not five years old anymore."

"Well, we're lucky you remembered today, or you never would have found me in the airport. Waaait a minute… why didn't we just go to the information desk and tell them to make an announcement?"

To her surprise, Elsa laughs. "Haven't you had enough of that for a lifetime? You used to get lost every time we went shopping with Mom and Dad."

The memories come flooding in like a storm carving up a forgotten river. "Hey, you got lost all the time, too!"

"You got us _both_ lost all the time."

The warm glow fills Anna's chest and remains there as Elsa turns into a long driveway leading down into the basement of one of the tallest apartments. Elsa takes a full five minutes to park, and then they're zipping up in the elevator.

Following Elsa down the plushly carpeted hallway, Anna discreetly pinches herself. _Ow_. It's actually happening. It doesn't matter that Hans planted that horrible question in her head ( _"You haven't lived with your sister in over_ thirteen years _, Anna. How do you know she even loves you anymore?"_ )—she's here. Elsa's here. They'll be coming home together from now on.

Then they reach the door at the very end of the hallway, fitted with one of those fancy keyless locks, and as Elsa reaches for it, she seems to remember something and says rather awkwardly, "It's your birthday."

_She forgot._

It shouldn't be so surprising—Elsa hasn't been there for thirteen years of birthdays. Their parents would always give Anna 'a present from Elsa', but Anna knows how hard it is to pick out something for a sister she sees once a year at Christmas ("She likes books," Grandpa replied every time Anna called for research). And Elsa's presents are always a _little_ too perfect, as if she still sleeps on the top bunk and can't escape twelve-year-old Anna gushing about skateboards. And after Anna noticed that, it became harder to ignore the voice that kept wondering if those presents were really from Elsa—a voice that is now smugly saying: _I told you so._

"Y-Yeah! It was actually two months ago but time sure does fly. It was a super fun day—Hans and I went to an amusement park. I spent, like, two hours at the bottle toss trying to win this cute Baymax plushie. I've got it in my suitcase; I'll show you later. It's the best cuddle buddy ever."

This gets her an odd look from Elsa, but a beep from the lock distracts them both. Elsa opens the door. She steps back, gesturing shyly for Anna to enter first.

"There had better not be a trapdoor in there," Anna jokes. She doesn't know why she's nervous about this moment. It's a door. It's open.

She steps through.

Her first thought is that everything is minimalistic and very _white_. An open kitchen with an oak splashback against pale tiles. Cream carpet visible through a glass coffee table sitting in front of a light grey leather couch that looks more like a recliner for one than a place to watch Netflix with friends or sisters.

Even the bookshelves standing sentry on either side of the wall-mounted television contain neat rows of books with the stark pages facing outward. Anna opens her mouth to make a quip about finding any books—but then her curious gaze falls on the small dining table with its single placemat and chair.

Why does this detail hurt so much?

"This place is amazing! I bet myself ten bucks that you had great taste." Even Anna can tell she sounds too loud, too bright. "Remind me to treat myself. I'm craving chocolate fondue right now. Actually, scratch that. I'm always craving chocolate fondue. Any good places around here? Please say yes."

She hopes Elsa still likes chocolate and building snowmen.

Elsa hovers by the shoe cabinet, her left hand loosely gripping her right elbow. "Yes. I'll take you someday. Would you like to see your room?"

Anna catches herself on the verge of saying something stupid like _'Of course! It's the whole reason I'm here.'_

"That's the bathroom." Elsa points to a door at the end of a short corridor, then gestures to two other doors on either side. "My room. Your room. I was only using it as a study, so it's very empty after I moved the desk to my room. We can—"

"Relax, sis! I'm so easy. All I need is a—" Anna throws open the door. "—bed."

It's literally the only piece of furniture in the room.

"Woooow. You really weren't kidding about empty, huh?"

Behind her, Elsa sounds apologetic. "I wasn't sure how you wanted to set it up, so I only got a bed. If the mattress is too hard or too soft for you, we can exchange it tomorrow. Or if you don't like the view, you can take my room instead. It really doesn't—"

"I _love_ it." Anna spins around with a grin. "This means we get to go shopping together! But let's get IKEA to deliver to us, yeah? Your Mini Cooper can only fit, like, two-thirds of a flatpack. Ooh, I've seen apps that let you drag furniture onto photos to see how the room looks with—" She's interrupted by a shockingly huge yawn. "Goodness, 'scuse me. Where was I? Right—apps… Elsa? Where are you going?"

Her sister returns with the suitcase. "You just got off a plane; change into something comfortable and get some rest. Dessert and furniture can wait until tomorrow."

"But I'm not—" Another yawn swallows up the rest of Anna's sentence. "—sleepy… Okay, fine. But promise you'll wake me up for dinner, or my rumbling tummy will wake _you_ in the middle of the night."

Elsa promises, and then the door closes with the softest of clicks.

Anna listens, but there's carpet and her sister moves so quietly that it feels like she's back in the big house. Alone. Except she's not.

She checks her phone. Nothing from Hans. She sends him a quick message to say she's arrived at Elsa's place, then looks around at her new room, and decides not to add a photo.

Her suitcase springs open as soon as she unlocks it, spilling her life across the floor. Gerda helped her pack, but none of her neat folding survives the trial of Anna digging for something to sleep in. Anna changes into pyjama bottoms and one of Hans' shirts.

Then her gaze catches on a grey, threadbare sweater.

There's a cartoon graphic of a single slice of pizza. The rest of the pizza is on her father's sweater; a matching Father's Day gift that immediately became a game of chicken. If one of them wore their sweater in the house, the other had to wear theirs, no matter how sweltering the day. It drove her mother crazy. "Can you two please stop wearing those long enough for me to wash them?" she used to sigh.

Now, pulling the sweater over her head, Anna realises in the darkness that it's the little details. It's the fact that their sweater streak was still unbroken when she answered the door to find two police officers solemnly waiting. It's electricity and phone bills that continue to pay themselves, because direct debits don't care that Anna's parents are gone. It's not being able to send videos of Elsa's horrible driving to the group chat because no one else will see them.

A knock on the door startles her. She whirls around with her head still stuck in the sweater and— _oh no, bad idea_.

"Anna? I forgot to give you… are you okay? I heard a loud noise."

Lying winded on her back, Anna wheezes, "Nothing! My shirt just fell."

"That was very loud for a shirt."

"Yeah, um, that's because I was kind of in it."

The door opens as she sits up. "Did you break anything?" Elsa asks as she helps Anna get her head through the sweater.

"God, I hope not. Keep all your favourite mugs away from me. Actually, keep all your expensive stuff away because I'm ridiculously uncoordinated. As you can see."

"I meant bones, Anna. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Oh." Anna lets out a laugh, rubbing an elbow. "Totally fine. Super thick skull. What did you forget?"

Elsa gestures towards the bed, where she's placed a stack of bath towels. "To give you towels in case you want to take a shower first."

"Thanks. Wow. That's… a lot of colours."

"I wasn't sure which ones you liked."

Anna blinks at her sister. Who might have given her a spare room with nothing but a bed, yet bought _towels_ in literally every colour of the rainbow, just for Anna.

"Oh, and this." Elsa holds out a silver key. "In case the keyless lock fails for any reason. There's a panel you can slide down to open the door normally with this key."

The key feels both light and heavy in Anna's hands. She flashes Elsa a grateful grin. "I'm going to use this every day because that pin code looked so long, I'd forget it every day."

"I don't think you will."

"Hah. You don't know how bad my memory is." And Elsa really doesn't know, does she? There are so many things they don't know about each other.

But then Elsa cocks her head to one side and says, "You can't forget it. I told you: it's your birthday. Month, date, year."

When Anna stares speechlessly for too long, Elsa hurriedly adds, "When I moved in, I was told not to use my own birthday because it's too obvious, so the first thing I thought of was yours—b-but we can change it to your phone number if that's easier for you. Or maybe… Anna? Are you okay?"

The details Anna has collected scatter as she throws her arms around Elsa for the second time that day. Except this time, it doesn't feel like she's hugging a stranger.

When Elsa awkwardly rubs her back, Anna wipes her eyes on her favourite sweater and thinks: _That's my sister._


	7. Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elsa comes home after a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was born thanks to lianthuss, guru of modern AUs, who helped me flesh out Elsa's character voice in what is, mindblowingly, her first POV oneshot so far. If you enjoy a good modern AU and compelling relationships, please check out lianthuss' story, [Sparks!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22757431/chapters/54377572)

Three missed calls in the time it took to park her car and ride the elevator up from the basement. _Switch it off,_ Elsa reminds herself, even as she raises the phone to her ear. 

“Elsa!” Her secretary exclaims, as if the gates of heaven have swung open to her. “I thought you finally got in a car accident or something.”

“What do you mean ‘finally’?” Elsa checks her watch. _Four minutes._ She glances down the hallway, then steps toward the floor-length window to the left of the elevators. 

“Oh, you know. With your driving… oh wait, you pay my salary. Let me restart. Good evening, Miss Arendelle. Or is it good afternoon? I’ve never had to call you at this hour before.”

That’s because she’s usually still in the office at this hour. Elsa represses a sigh as she perches on the edge of a leather couch. She’s sure maintenance of the communal sitting area comes out of the exorbitant building management fees, and yet she has never used it, nor seen any of her neighbours do the same. Its existence seems contradictory—who would linger when their own front door is within reach?

Elsa understands it, though; the fear of going home. But her grandfather is no longer waiting on the other side of that door.

 _Three minutes._ “You don’t technically have to do anything at all, Zahra,” she replies wryly. “You were supposed to clock out when I did.” 

“Yeah, but the loons in Marketing didn’t. They’re not letting me leave the building without harassing you one last time. Hold on—” Elsa catches rustling sounds followed by Zahra’s impatient voice asking, “Quickly now; what do you cowards want me to say? … Seriously? Oh, just speak to her yourself, damn it.”

Elsa absently takes in the bruised glow of sunset bleeding into twilight across the cityscape, and knows it’ll be Zahra who returns to the phone. Everyone in the company seems to believe that Elsa is frostbite, and that her secretary is a glove to be borrowed for the small privilege of tapping her on the shoulder. Yet another of her grandfather’s legacies.

Zahra returns with an exasperated monotone. “‘It doesn’t have to be an actual date; just five minutes grabbing coffee or something. He doesn’t have to be a Calvin Klein model. Doesn’t have to be a ‘he’, either. Someone. Anyone.’ Their words, not mine.”

Elsa almost chuckles, but she has a feeling Zahra’s put her on speaker and she doesn’t want to unnerve the others with her rare laughter. “My answer hasn’t changed in half an hour.”

“Cool.” Zahra raises her voice. “Did y’all hear that? Over her dead body, she says.”

“Zahra! That is not what I said.”

“Fine. Over _my_ dead body. Can we stop bullying the boss and go get a life now? And one more thing, Elsa.”

“Yes?”

“You said you were going to turn off your phone after hours. This was a test, and you failed with excellence. Reflect on that. Goodbye.”

The call cuts out, leaving Elsa with her eyebrows raised. Thousands of employees across dozens of offices, and Zahra is still the only one brave enough to call her by name and hang up on her.

Shaking her head as she walks down the hallway, Elsa moves to switch off her work phone. Then she pauses. 

_Sorry, one last favour,_ she texts Zahra. _Could you please order food for anyone working overtime tonight? Put it on my card. Thank you._

Animated ellipses instantly pop up, signifying Zahra’s speedy reply in progress. Usually, putting her phone on Do Not Disturb mode means she’ll still see the message. But that’s not what she promised Anna, and as Elsa watches the device power down, she notices for the first time that it’s a different, darker black. Like the incomplete silence of an apartment that is no longer wholly her own.

Slipping the phone into her bag, Elsa unlocks the door—and steps into chaos.

“Oh! Hey, sis!” Anna shouts over the music blaring from the sound system. “Alexa, turn the volume down—no, no, not Chris Brown! Play, um… Elsa’s favourite playlist! You have one, right?”

Momentarily overwhelmed, Elsa’s mind goes blank. “For audiobooks?”

“What? Oh, shucks. Alexa, play… play… actually, never mind. Stop the music. Sister bonding time.” Anna grins over the mess of the kitchen counter. “Someone’s home early.”

Elsa cocks her head in bemusement as she bends to unzip her boots. “Someone told me to be home for dinner at six. It’s six o’clock now.”

“I thought you’d take that flexibly to mean, like, eight.”

“Believe it or not, one of us actually takes punctuality seriously.”

Anna lets out a laugh as she fills the salad spinner with greens. “Okay, but you also take work seriously. Too seriously, remember?”

“I remember. I pay the same respect to my promises. I successfully turned off my phone before I came through the door, which means you owe me Lindt chocolate.”

“Drats.”

“You already ate it, didn’t you?”

“Maaaaybe? Hey, lend me your expertise with the salad? I need to check on the pasta bake. And while you’re at it, can you pretty please cut the carrots?”

Rolling up the sleeves of her blouse, Elsa fights a smile. “I’ll have you know my kitchen was spotless before you moved in.”

“Oh, please; you didn’t even _use_ your kitchen until I came along to feed you. And no, washing cutlery after eating takeout does not count.”

“I am occasionally capable of making food for myself.”

“Salads. You made nothing but _salads_.”

“I fail to see anything wrong with that. Salads are healthy and simple to prepare.” Elsa rinses the chopping board and plucks a knife from the block. “How was your day?”

“Awesome! Well, it wasn’t so awesome when I slept in and missed my morning lectures—but it _is_ awesome that they’re recorded. Now I can catch up whenever I want… yeah, okay, it’s never gonna happen. I’ll charm Belle into sharing her notes. Good plan? Great plan. How was your day?”

“It was good.”

“Hmm. Nope. Not buying it.”

“Everything was fine, Anna.” Aside from being pestered to do ‘candid photoshoots’ with ‘personalities of interest’ to promote her ‘public image’. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“You sure? Because you’re chopping those carrots quite aggressively.”

“Am I?” Sensing more questions on the way, Elsa cuts in with, “Salad dressing?”

“What? Oh, I was thinking of balsamic mayonnaise. It’s super yum and easy. Just mix balsamic vinegar and mayonnaise together.”

There was once a time when Elsa’s fridge was empty but for milk and salad greens. Now, it’s so jam-packed she almost has to disembowel it to find the mayonnaise. “In what ratio?” 

“I dunno. Just eyeball it and stop when it feels right.”

“How can I know it’s right if I _don’t_? Is there a recipe?”

“Sure—in my head. What’s with that look? Just trust me! First, chuck some balsamic vinegar in a bowl… yep, that’s it. Now add mayo. We need way more than _that_ , silly. More, more…”

 _Give her more time, Agnarr,_ she hears her grandfather murmur. _The girl is clearly still traumatised. Forcing her to face the little one too soon won’t help. Let her spend more time with me. She’ll go home when she’s ready._

One more week. One more month. A year. More, more, more.

She was never ready.

“Tired?” Anna reappears at her elbow, spatula in hand.

Elsa blinks. Then she pushes a smile onto her face. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I’m not falling for—oh god, that is way too much!”

Elsa looks down to find the bowl overflowing with mayonnaise. “Oh no.”

“‘ _Oh no’_?” Anna doubles over with tears of laughter streaming down her face. “You practically squeezed out the whole bottle!”

“You didn’t tell me to stop!”

“I forgot! You’re supposed to be the smart one!”

“Well, I—I can’t be _everything_!”

It comes out strange; too loud and soft, an outburst as much as a choked confession. It puts a similarly strange look on Anna’s face as the two of them stare at each other.

 _Take it back,_ Elsa berates herself. _Laugh it off. She needs you to be stronger than that._

Before she can say anything, though, Anna declares, “Okay, that’s it—you’re relieved.”

“Of?” Elsa asks in confusion, as she’s steered out of the kitchen and onto the couch. 

“Everything! You’re going to switch everything off and take a nap.”

“Anna, I’m fine. I’ll get the dressing right this time. Let me look up a recipe.”

“Nope!” Her phone disappears from her hands and is replaced with a cushion. Then another, and another.

“Anna!” Elsa laughs. “Stop burying me.”

And yet, it feels like she’s finally coming up for air.


	8. Waddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Kinda backstory chapter? As always, you guys can headcanon the timing] In which Kristoff and Anna go ice-skating.

"I want a penguin!"

"Too bad. I'm all you've got." He puts on the smugness only to annoy her. Anna is already strong enough when she's not terrified, and the way she's gripping his forearms now tells Kristoff he'll definitely find bruises the next morning.

"Hey, I think I got the hang of it! Let go, Kris, I can totally— _oh my god, don't let go!"_

Kristoff grabs Anna before her pinwheeling can bowl over a family of four. "You were saying?"

Watching another kid glide past on a penguin skating aid, Anna huffs, "I can't believe they don't have those helper penguins in my size. How can they just assume all adults know how to ice-skate?"

" _You_ assumed you could ice-skate."

"I thought it'd be like horse-riding!"

"Gee, I wonder where the rich girl got that idea from."

"Says the vet student who smells like horses."

"What was that? Let go? Sure, I'd be happy to—"

"No no no no no! I take it back! I'm sorry!"

Kristoff wants so badly to take a photo of Anna looking like Bambi on ice. But that would require him to take his eyes off of her, and that's been getting harder and harder to do lately. So he chuckles and takes her hands again, ignoring the diamond ring stabbing into his palm, calling him an idiot.

"You know what else I can't believe?" Anna blows a piece of hair out of her eyes. "That this pop up Winter Wonderland is ending tomorrow, and Elsa's going to miss it. How could she forget? I reminded her at breakfast this morning."

"She didn't forget."

"What? You think she's avoiding me? Is she mad at me?"

_Shit, Bjorgman; you weren't supposed to say that out loud._ "No, ah… I meant that she never forgets anything because she's, you know—Elsa. She probably just got stuck in a meeting and didn't have time to message you. Maybe she's already on her way."

Another lie, no longer as white as snow. Kristoff knows Elsa isn't coming. Not to an ice rink.

It still feels weird that he's the only one who knows. As weird as it was for him to stumble on Elsa's Mini Cooper after a shift at the animal shelter last winter.

It wouldn't have caught his eye if not for the way it was stopped in the middle of the deserted street, engine running, headlights cutting through the snowy night. It had only got weirder when he knocked on the window, and a glamorous young woman he'd never seen before dazedly said, "Kristoff?"

Then something seemed to snap back into place behind her wide eyes. She launched into flustered apologies—something about the gym and her sister showing her his Instagram, and she was so sorry for inconveniencing him like this; was her car blocking his?

It was, actually. But what came out of Kristoff's mouth was: "Hey, are you okay?"

He hadn't expected her lips to tremble, or for her voice to shake as she explained that her car had skid on black ice. It was fine; the car was fine. She would be all right once the shock passed.

Yet her breath began hitching shallowly after ' _ice'_.

"You don't look so good. Why don't you call your sister?"

That summoned a flinch so violent that the car jostled—that was the moment Kristoff knew that it wasn't a tow truck the woman needed.

It wasn't until he coaxed her into the passenger seat and squeezed himself behind the wheel that he realised what his actions must look like to a woman on the verge of a mental breakdown.

When he turned to explain himself, though, she wasn't even looking at him. Just curled up in a ball on the seat, face buried in her knees, blonde hair shimmering like a ghostly curtain in the dark.

"Do you, uh, want me to leave you alone?"

A tiny shake of her head.

So Kristoff cleared his throat and spent a ridiculously long time adjusting the seat. Then he looked up the address she whispered to him. Neither of them spoke during the drive—until her phone rang over the car's Bluetooth and made them both jump.

The woman's demeanour instantly changed when she saw ' _Anna'_ on the screen. "I need to take this," she croaked, wiping her cheeks. "Would you mind…?"

She spoke as if they weren't sitting in _her_ car, which he practically used to kidnap her. He really wasn't doing himself any favours if she changed her mind about his Good Samaritan act. It would have been smarter to call the police, or some sort of helpline. It wasn't too late to stop the car and get out.

Concentrating on the slick road, Kristoff mimed zipping up his mouth.

Then he nearly ran a red light when the woman answered the call, and a startlingly familiar voice tumbled through the speakers.

_Oh,_ Kristoff thought as flashes of strawberry blonde hair, donuts, and a twenty-kilo weight plate zipped through his head. That _girl. The not-Anna. Ah-na._

If only he had known back then that it wouldn't simply end with him seeing Elsa home. That, one year and a second winter later, these two bothersome sisters would still be in his life.

The thing is, Kristoff isn't sure he would have done a single thing differently, even if he had known.

Anna still doesn't know that Elsa wasn't home late because of traffic that night. She has no idea that her sister is terrified of ice. She definitely doesn't know that Kristoff almost changed gyms the next day, because meeting her sister mid-panic attack was weird enough, and if there was one thing he hated as much as animal cruelty, it was complicated relationships.

Besides, Anna Arendelle was obviously a people person. That was more than enough reason for him to stay away. So he did.

Or tried to.

They kept running into each other. Kristoff's work and study schedule had him returning at the same time every second day, and Anna kept chatting to him while they worked out next to each other. She kept ribbing him about his abysmal cardio, and he kept teasing her when she tripped on barbells running off to answer her fiancé's calls. They kept going for donuts downstairs.

Kristoff kept missing the signs that Bulda and Cliff wouldn't stop talking about all through his life. They had made it sound as fantastical as fairytales, too grand to overlook; too world-changing to sneak up on you over time. If you didn't fall in love with someone at first sight, Kristoff believed, then it would never change. Simple. Uncomplicated.

Stupid.

"Yoohoo!" Anna waves her hand in front of his face. "Still with me, penguin?"

Kristoff blinks and focuses on her. Freckled cheeks flushed from the cold. Rosy lips exhaling puffs of warmth he can just feel brushing against his own lips, ever so faintly. And he has to remind himself to be grateful for the ice; it may be as cold and hard as the ring on her finger, but its existence is all that keeps him from drowning in her.

Smirking back, Kristoff yanks her beanie over her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I'm with you, Feisty Pants. Now, let's see if you can do one round without landing on your butt."


End file.
